


A Beautiful Mind Gone To Waste

by Peter164



Series: Suicidal Sherlock [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bullying, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Pre-Reichenbach, Sherlock Loves John, Sherlock Makes Deductions, Suicidal Sherlock, Suicide Attempt, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 05:30:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4467209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peter164/pseuds/Peter164
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John gets ahold of Sherlock's medical file, in hopes it helps him to understand the high-functioning-sociopath just a little better. He finds it very interesting. What he glossed over, what he made sound so much more fantastic than it is. But one particular thing stood out to him. Something that happened when he was 17 years old.</p><p>Possible triggers. Please read tags if you have concerns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Beautiful Mind Gone To Waste

It took quite a bit of digging, but he finally found it. William Sherlock Scott Holmes's medical file. He wondered if he could learn why the poor man didn't eat, or sleep, if he was in his mind palace. He had too many feelings to be a sociopath, even a high functioning one. He wanted to shed some light on his big brain, not literally of course. 

He printed out the digital documents (of which were few and quite recent) and gathered up the papers in a big file folder. He sat on his bed and started to read. He started with the information page that you fill in at your first visit, from when he was 16 and going to a new doctor. He didn't think much could be found there, but you never know. He skipped over the personal information bit. He knew names and birthdays and phone numbers. But one bit caught his eye more than the rest. 

Medical condition(s)/disease(s)/allergies: ADHD, Asperger Syndrome, depression

Not even a hint at sociopath anything. That's why there were always pills with the tea Mrs. Hudson made him. That made him feel better. Then he remembered that he had never seen him swallow those pills. He was going to have to ask him why. 

John spent hours reading about how many accidents he got into when he was a kid. He had broken his left leg twice and his right one once, he dislocated his wrist, broke his arm, broke a toe, broke a finger, separated a rib on six different occasions, and cracked his jawbone. And that was just the physical injuries. He didn't even want to think about the countless therapy sessions, medications, counseling, mental retraining, and special education he had to have in attempt to fix him. In John's humble medical opinion, he thought Sherlock couldn't be fixed, because he wasn't broken. Maybe a bit crooked and lopsided, but not broken. 

For about 5 years, nothing happened. He didn't get into trouble, he stopped the therapy, he never broke another bone. The only records were prescriptions for his medications. From 12 to 17, nothing. 

Then something big. He reached the folder that Mrs. Holmes gave him. She said it was very important he read it without Sherlock in the room. It started with a crumpled piece of paper. In his same sloppy cursive writing that was laying on the coffee table describing the difference between a Scottish accent and an Irish accent, was a note. He started to read. 

_Hello,_  
_Or should I say goodbye. For this is the last of my many goodbyes I've said in my life. I've been trying so hard for so long, and now I have to stop. People are cruel. I know this more than most. Now I know that you are all very dimwitted, so I'll make this very simple. Remember Redbeard? We had to put him down. Now that's what I'm doing because no one else in this family will do it for me. Just remember that I don't want you to be sad. I know you won't listen because the relationship between living and dead is complicated and full of lies._ _Mycroft, I hope you find someone nice to marry and have a family who can put up with your OCD. Please tell Mummy and Daddy. You know what I'm talking about. Don't deny it. Mum, don't get caught up on this. It wasn't your fault, you were the best mother I could have. Dad, you're a ridiculous clown, and I love you. Never change._ _Good Night family. Forever and ever. The East Wind is finally dying down._ _Sherlock_

A suicide note? He felt on the edge of tears. Sherlock went this far? Would he do it again? He looked at the next thing, a DVD. It was labeled 'Sherlock Hospital VHS convert'. Thank God he was taking a nap. He put it in the disk drive in his laptop and waited for it to play. The grainy, washed out picture flashed on the screen. It opened with the camera aimed at much younger Mycroft, though unmistakable. 

"Sherlock just woke up." The voice of Mrs. Holmes played on the speakers, "And we're very glad he has. And little Mike still won't tell me what Sherlock means."

"Mum, I'm not little, and my name isn't Mike, it's Mycroft. You should know, you picked it." He was still more or less the same, "And I promise I will eventually." The camera moved to face Sherlock laying in a hospital bed. 

"Here's my poor baby." She narrated. He had the same curly head of dark hair he does now, same beautiful blue eyes that looked like they were every color in the rainbow at once. He waved, showing off his arms, pulled together with black thread.

"I'm alright, Mummy. I promise." He smiled sadly. 

"That doesn't mean it's okay." She said, "I knew the other kids weren't very nice, but this is ridiculous. If I find out who did this to you then I swear they will not be laughing when I'm done with them."

"Just wait, I'll find someone who makes me happy always." He assured her. 

"I'll know him when he gets here. It's a mother's Instinct." She told him. The camera was shaking a little. 

"We need a code word or something so that I can tell you I found him." He suggested, "Something he won't ever suspect."

"Peanut Butter." She told him, "You love peanut butter. When you tell me you found your peanut butter, then I'll know you've found him. Now make sure to marry him, understand?" 

"Mummy, I'm 17. We shouldn't be discussing marriage. I can't marry him right now anyway, as it's illegal for me to get married." He slouched down on his bed. 

"When you find him it will be." She assured. She turned the camera to face her, "The nurse is coming back in. I'll check in later." The DVD stopped playing. 

John had to pause for a moment. He was talking about getting married, but it was illegal when he was 17. He wanted to marry a him. Sherlock was gay? What? So that's why he could pick out Jim as gay so quickly. Takes one to know one. He had also tried to bleed himself to death of course, but he was gay? Why didn't he tell him? He moved onto the next thing in the file. 

Photos of them at the hospital. He flipped through, a lot of them were group pictures of the family, or Sherlock and some other boy sitting in his hospital bed together. This other boy showed up a lot. They had fallen asleep on each other apparently. Then he flipped to the last picture, he was kissing the other boy's cheek, who had a broad smile across his face. He looked at the back of the picture and read the writing Mrs. Holmes put there. 

_1993, Sherly & David, best boyfriends_

Sherlock had a boyfriend? He blinked rapidly and moved on. The last thing in the file was a screenshot printout of text messages to Sherlock. 

'Mummy, I found my peanut butter.' The first text said. 

'Who?'

'His name is John. I haven't known him very long. But he's my peanut butter.'

'Remember what I told you Sherly.'

'I know.'

John could feel tears filling his eyes. He was the person who put Sherlock back together. He looked at the date of the messages, just after the Blind Banker case. He loved him. He had no idea what to do, so he went in to see if he was awake yet. 

He wondered into Sherlock's room. He knocked quietly on the door. He needed to touch him, no, squeeze him. He needed to squish him so tightly that every broken piece would stick itself together again. 

"John?" He looked up, his voice was rough from sleep, "What are you doing?" 

"Can I come sleep with you?" He asked, knowing that he would take this very literally. 

"Sure." He moved over to one side for John to crawl in next to him. He wrapped his arm around Sherlock's waist and pulled him close. He was honestly way too big to be the little spoon, but in this moment, no one cared. When he thought he had fallen back asleep, he was snoring a little so it was a safe bet, John placed a small kiss behind his ear. 

He didn't let him go for two days after that. He was always touching some part of him, his hand, his shoulder, his arm, his back, his chest. Anything. After this, he finally asked Sherlock what had been on his mind since he saw the video. 

"Can I ask you something? It might be a bit personal so you're welcome to decline." He said. He needed to know. 

"What's the question?" He sipped his tea that John had made him. 

"Are you gay?" He just spit it out, as did Sherlock. He started choking on his tea. When he finished coughing he finally responded. 

"Why do you ask?" He wiped the hot liquid off of his chin with the sleeve of his robe. 

"No reason. Curious I guess." He lied. 

"Well if you must know, I am." He nodded harshly, "And I don't want you to leave. So please stay. I promise I won't do anything to you while you sleep. That's what all the other people were worried about when I told them I needed a flatmate." He seemed very worried at the prospect of losing him. 

"Calm down, I'm not going anywhere. I promise." He held Sherlock's hand gently, "I'm staying right here."

"Would it be weird for me to ask if you wanted to date anyone in particular?" He asked. He needed to hear him say it himself, even if he didn't reciprocate. 

"There's one person that I would want to do more than just date them. I think I love them actually." He made eye contact when he said that, like he wanted him to know he was talking about him, "But if he won't have me, then I'm doomed. Of course Mycroft, got his choice of man."

"What?"

"Oh yeah, Mycroft is dating Lestrade now." He added has an afterthought. 

"Who are you in love with?" He tilted his head a little. 

"You." He looked up pleadingly. He didn't want to be turned away. 

"I love you too, Sherlock." He gripped his hands tighter, "But not the way you want me to love you." He let him down gently. 

"I know." He looked disappointed, but like he expected it, "Would you mind saying that again though?" 

"What, I love you?" John asked, he nodded, "Alright. I love you, Sherlock Holmes. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you." He said it over and over and over again. He tackled Sherlock a bit more each time. Eventually he was just inches away from the other's face. The were both laughing. 

Sherlock was grinning and just bathing in the sound of those three words. He couldn't help but bring his lips up to that round little nose nearly brushing his own. John looked shocked. He knew he screwed it up. He was about to push him off when he felt lips on his nose. They laughed some more and eventually turned on a movie that was playing on TV. 

They never bothered to move, so when they fell asleep with John's head on Sherlock's chest and Mrs. Hudson walked in, they lost the ability to deny they were a couple.


End file.
